


you gotta strike when the moment is right, without thinking

by MsThing (Hieiandshino)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski - Freeform, Gen, Mostly Gen, Pre-Slash, based on Beauty and the Beast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:50:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hieiandshino/pseuds/MsThing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s a double effort from his dad and Scott that makes Stiles start working at Dr. Deaton’s veterinary’s clinic.</i>
</p>
<p>Or the one where Stiles works for Deaton, has magic, saves a life, is trained by the good veterinary without knowing and still is best friends with Scott ‘I’m a dumbass’ Mccall. Oh, and there is this weird uncle and niece that come weekly to the clinic to treat a totally not-sick dog called Derek, who has the size of a wolf and electric blue eyes and is kind of grumpy and way too human for, well, everyone.</p>
<p>If Stiles didn’t know better, Derek Hale, as the nice and crazy family of two presents him, could be considered a <i>werewolf</i>. Ridiculous, he knows.</p>
<p>(Unrevised work; WIP)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you gotta strike when the moment is right, without thinking

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf does not belong to me.
> 
> English isn’t my first language and this fanfic wasn’t revised by my beta, so if you see any mistake, please let me know!
> 
> This fanfic is a WIP, so help me God. Also, is part of a series. The first part will be only interactions between the characters and Gen, so if you are expecting some friction between the characters, I suggest you wait until the second part.

It’s a double effort from both Scott and his dad to make Stiles start working at Dr. Deaton’s veterinary’s clinic. His father says it’s a good way to learn responsibility and an even better way to force him into focus; if he doesn’t, God knows what will happen with the poor animals. Scott’s reasons are less noble, or at least on the outside: they can use the money to actually have some fun, though they both know they will use it to help their parents somehow. Dad is the sheriff and he isn’t as present as he wanted, so Stiles sometimes need money to buy things when the man forgets to leave some behind and also because college is expensive; Scott’s mom works too many shifts at the hospital and doesn’t get paid well enough. It's a simple math and Scott and Stiles just want to make it easy for their parents.

So when they both corner him one day and explain during one hour about the benefits of a job; that Deaton is actually willing to have two assistants; and that he doesn’t care about Stiles’ ADHD, he says _okay, let’s do this thing_. If he knew it would make them so happy he would’ve agreed a long time ago, but he doesn’t say this out loud. He is too busy listening to his father as he tells him with a stern face to not kill any dog.

“Jeez, dad, what kind of person do you think I am?”

He doesn’t answer, only gives Stiles a book with animal pictures and says that with great power comes great responsibility. Scott just beams and hugs him and tells is the best job _ever_ because Deaton is so weird, what left him a little bit skeptical. In the end, however, is true: Deaton is the coolest boss ever. He is hard when he needs assistance, of course, but otherwise he is quite cool about everything else. And, God, is he _weird_. He has some strange herbs and plants around the clinic, a room that opens with a special key and a shit-load of books that arrive practically every day about _magic._

“I like to learn a lot about the unknown.” Is his answer when Stiles asks what the fuck he does with all that. Scott nods as if he actually understands the man and smiles when Deaton smirks at him in response.

Stiles only arches an eyebrow and says: “The way you say it sounds as if you actually _believe_ this stuff exist.”

It’s the first time they ever hear Deaton laugh — that throw your head backwards and letting it reverberate through the room kind of laugh. And it is a good laugh. Beautiful, even, if laughter can be beautiful ( _his mother’s was, but he remembers the sound of it less and less so that must be the reason he considers it so_ ).

“Perhaps I do.” The man answers finally. “Most type of magic you learn from these books show you that you only need to _believe_ for it to happen.”

“Like a prayer, you mean?” Scott asks and, wow, sometimes he has good insight at stuff. Too bad normally he is too dumb to notice the way the girls look at him, even though he has asthma and is a loser. Stiles would envy him if he actually cared that much for girls that aren’t Lydia; the rest of his time he is trying to understand his own sexuality when it comes to guys.

Deaton arches an eyebrow and then smiles again, pleased. “ _Stronger_ than a prayer. Prayer is belief, yes, but is to put your hopes, everything you believe, on some _thing_ or some _one_ else — whom you cannot see or reach. Prayer is putting your belief in another and have faith this deity will solve your problems for you, because they are much stronger than you are. Magic, however, is to believe that what you want _will_ come true and that _you_ are the one to do it. It is, mostly, believing in yourself and believing you are strong enough to make it happen.”

“Make what happen?” Scott asks, confused.

The doctor’s smile is mysterious and extremely happy in, you know, the only way Deaton can ever show happiness and still be mysterious. “Everything.”

.

Stiles thinks he will get bored in a few weeks or months; thinks he will be fired because he isn’t exactly assistant material and tends to faint at the sight of blood; thinks he will faint at the sight of blood. However, as everything Deaton does, he surprises him every day. Nothing is ever the same though it is kind of boring. The diseases are fascinating and the methods to heal the animals are even more interesting. They mix human medicine with some made specifically for animals and the little bastards _heal_. _They heal_ and it’s so, so amazing to be able to do this for someone. And, as it happens, he is quite good at being an assistant. He reads books and books about animal practice and spends hours with Scott playing with the puppies and watching them and cataloguing and memorizing medicines — even thinks he would do a great veterinary if he wanted to. As for the sight of the blood, well, it isn’t that bad. He feels sick, yes, but when a dog or a cat bleed, it’s for a damn good reason and Stiles just doesn’t have the time to stop and think _hey, that may make me sick!_ He's a practical person and very good in a crisis, so he sucks it up and does his job.

It’s not the same with needles, though. One moment he is fine, the other he is on the floor being slapped in the face by Scott, that always seems delighted by doing it, the son of a bitch.

All in all, it’s good. It’s perfect, actually, and it’s a great way to spend his days. His father looks proud too and Stiles— Stiles is happy for this.

.

However — and _of course_ — nothing is so perfect that keeps being this way. Not in Stiles' life, at least.

.

The dog comes screaming like mad, in a way that makes the hairs of the necks of the three of them stand up. Deaton is already putting his gloves on and looking grimly at Scott and Stiles. Then, comes the man, busting through the door, crying as he leads the dog that is massively hurt inside the clinic, holding it so tightly against his body his clothes are soaked in blood.

“I need blood.” Deaton says quickly. “ _Now_.”

Scott and he are a mess of limbs, moving quickly to get what Deaton needs. As he moves, searching for morphine, something to hold the dog and something else he does not remember anymore, Stiles hears the owner say the dog was hit by a truck whose driver left without helping them. The man runs bloody hands through his head, flinches and then starts crying. “My kids saw it before me. They were playing with Lucky and the truck _came._ I think he jumped in front of my youngest to save him. I just—”

Deaton nods calmly and asks for Stiles to lead the man to the bathroom so he can clean himself. As he passes by the table, he sees that both rear legs of the dog are crushed and gets a terrible feeling inside him. When he looks up at Deaton, he knows that the man can’t do shit about it. He will try, though, and then will take the pain away from the dog. Most likely forever.

Stiles deals with this, well, not _well_. He’s just terrible at losses — has been ever since he lost his mother — and animals are _important_. He never had one but he knows that the people that come here treat them as if they were his own children, like a lady who divorced her husband because the man couldn’t stand the cats that she brought home. She couldn’t have children, she explained to Deaton, smiling faintly, so she started taking care of animals, but her husband hated them so— It was the obvious choice, she said. And perhaps it was, as crazy as it sounds.

The dog at the table isn’t that old. He looks young and is strong so this means that it doesn’t matter his state before the accident; only what will happen after this — what happens _now_. The numbers are pretty shitty, but miracles _happen_.

The man sits on the lid of the toilet to cry for a moment. He just sits and cries and explains he bought a dog for his wife and him before they had children because of _Marley & Me_. It was a nice story and they wanted children who liked dogs and wanted to have this experience with something as sensible as a kid but much more loyal than a human being. And then they had children and his wife _died_ at the cirurgy table and the dog sleeps with him now, every day, and—

And Stiles realizes he is crying, just a little less than the man. Not because it’s a sad story — it _is_ —, but because he knows what is to lose someone like this. At a hospital. Because of life and not because of some accident. If he had a dog around the time his mother died and this happened he wouldn’t be able to cope.

He laughs, then, tears still falling, because at least he isn’t having a fucking panic attack. Stiles is rather calm, what surprises him. That's when the man says, still bloody and defeated: “But God will help Lucky. God has to, right?” And he looks at Stiles in the same way his dad looks at him every day, before he leaves; a scared but hopeful look, that says that God took his wife from him so He wouldn’t take his son too, right?

That is when Stiles remembers what Deaton said about magic and he feels compelled to answer the man that he should believe he can change Lucky's state right now, all by himself. However, when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out, because, seriously? It doesn’t work that way. And if it does, will not the man think Stiles is _crazy_? Will not the man be, like, _offended_ or something? So Stiles closes his mouth, looks in the mirror for a moment, sees the tears that dirtied his face and closes his eyes. Breaths in and out slowly, like he does when he has a panic attack; like he learned from the doctors. Relaxes his body and twitches his fingers a little, feeling the material of his jeans scrap the tips of three or four of them.

And believes.

Believes _he_ is able to save Lucky; that the man crying with him in the bathroom deserves at least that; that his wife would have liked both the dog and him to grow old; that their kids need not to see death at such an early age since the last one they don't even remember. Mostly he believes no one will ever lose someone like his dad and he lost.

Nothing happens for a second, and then the whines of a highly drugged dog suddenly _stop_. Both of them look at the closed door, swallow and look at each other. _Fucking great_ , Stiles thinks hopelessly; instead of saving the dog, he killed it.

And then Scott opens the door and, as soaked in blood as the man, smiles at them. “Dr. Deaton is a fucking savior, man.”

“What?” Both say.

“Lucky will be fine, Mr. Johnson. The bones will heal perfectly. Lucky will run again in no time, you’ll see. It’s, like, a fucking _miracle_.”

From behind Scott’s back, Deaton is looking at Stiles mysteriously, still near the table that contains a perfectly stable lucky dog named Lucky. His eyes seem to question Stiles about what happened and, shit, he has no idea. It couldn’t have been the fucking prayer. It couldn’t have been the believe-in-yourself moment. Shit doesn’t happen like this. At all. Well, perhaps in comics, with the whole Scarlet ‘ _no more mutants_ ’ Witch thingy she did years ago and that is finally biting her in the butt, but in _reality_? Im-fucking-possible.

Stiles blushes guiltily nonetheless and Deaton smirks at him, as if aware of his non-existent dirty secret.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't like the 'Peter was evil all the time' storyline the show decided to put. For me, Peter was a good, loving uncle, even if good at manipulation, that went insane and isn't completely cured.
> 
> In other words: he will be a little shit; he will manipulate a few times, but he won't have a supervillain agenda.
> 
> **Edit (08/30/2013):** I was reading it again and noticed a great deal of typos, so here is the revised-again version! No beta, but better than the last time. I also decided to change a few things inside the story, but it doesn't change the content.


End file.
